Gray Blue
by Sevvy-Lucy-Blaisey-Siri
Summary: A shared detention between two boys forges a bond that neither knows how to stop... Slash: Male!BlaisexHarry. Rated hesitantly for dark themes, i.e. cutting.


**Disclaimer: We claim no ownership for Harry Potter, its trademarks, or anything that can be related to the outside world. (Because we don't live in it.)**

_For the record, I blame this all on Lanie. She turned me into a gooey ball of sap! NO! But anyway, this bloomed from a roleplay we were doing on neopets. I had to keep putting the posts in the Word document as they came because I was afraid someone who actually knows the rules of said site would come along and, you know, report us. O.o. Wouldn't be pleasant at all!_

_Also, if there are places where things are repeated, it's because we were writing this in two different points of view mostly, except when I got ahead of myself and took over Harry's part for a little while._

_So we started this at like 9 at night and finished it around 8 in the morning… my time, at least. (11-10 hers)_

_This is a three part fic; this being part number one._

_The title has almost nothing to do with the fiction, but we were listening to The Used at the moment and agreed that The Used sounded kinda… gray-blue-ish._

_**-Gray Blue-**_

_**-Chapter One: Finding Out-**_

Blaise rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he stumbled out of bed after the snooze feature on his alarm clock rang for the fifth time. And his dream had been going so well, too... He shook his head to rid it of any cobwebs that may have clogged up his logic during sleep as he trudged to the bathroom to brush teeth and then shower. It was the first day of classes for the week and he was looking forward to it as much as anyone else: he was less than pleased. _But, _he consoled himself_, only a few more months until it__'s **all** over with._

After tying his tie and lacing up his shoes, he exited the dormitory and headed to the portrait hole. Unlike the Malfoy heir, he had no entourage of admirers or guards. Lucky him. His breathing got less labored as he rose from the depths of the dungeons, which were so ancient he was almost convinced they were prehistoric caves the Neanderthals had used to live in.

Despite the numerous times his alarm clock rang, he still managed to be one of the first Slytherins to be seated at their house table.

Harry growled, burying himself deeper into the covers, trying to get away from the annoying sound of his alarm clock. Finally Harry lifted a hand and pushed the off button. He only had twenty minutes until his first class. Harry sluggishly got out of the warm, deep confines of his bed and stumbled over to his shower.

Harry raced down the halls to his first class. Potions. He didn't even make it to breakfast and he only had a minute left. Just as the bell rang he skidded into the class only to trip and land hard onto the cold stone ground, his bag flying off of him and landing a few feet away.

Apparently, today was cursing Blaise with being early for everything. That was why he was standing outside of the Potions classroom for a half hour. This was also why he was able to get a good seat - preferably at the back - rather than his usual seat in the front.

This was also why he was found looking down on the figure of a sprawled out Harry Potter, glasses skewed crookedly on his nose, and hair mussed adorably from sleep when he did a faceplant as he flew through the door. Blaise could practically hear the glee at giving Potter another detention and deducting a significant amount of points pouring off of Snape.

And for the first time, he stood up for Potter. "Leave him alone, professor. He's on time." Only to be rewarded with detention with said Gryffindor.

He sighed again. He knew it was going to be an unpleasant day when he actually got good coffee that morning, but more because his morning had gone so well.

Harry's eyes widened when he saw Zabini stand up for him. "What the..." was all he could think. Never before had a Slytherin stood up for him, let alone to Snape! It was practically suicide! (Thus, few Slytherins in history had stood up to him.)

His mind was reeling even as he sat down at is work table next to Ron.

When he heard about the detention with the Slytherin he glanced over at Zabini. With his eyes blank and his hair slightly going into his eyes, it gave him a mysterious look. He quickly turned to Ron when an elbow hit him in the side. He grit his teeth at the pain that single action caused. All he knew was that he couldn't wait until his detention.

The mind of Blaise Zabini absorbed the shock following the whole scene. Why had he done it? Because he was tired of Snape pushing everyone around, that's why! But why for Potter, of all people? He didn't know the boy, except for what he could glean from overheard conversations or from observation. He knew that the boy was always tired, and he knew that he was drifting away from his friends, and he knew that he was often late for the first class of the day.

But maybe things had changed since last semester.

Seems his 'Potter Peeping' would have to become an active operation once more, and he planned to have it start that night in detention.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-**_

Harry sighed and glanced at his friends. They were arguing - again. He lifted his eyes from them to his plate, which was still full from Hermione's insistence that she put as much food as possible on it. He pushed it away and sipped some pumpkin juice absently. He turned his head and looked up only to meet with deep chocolate brown eyes. The owner of the brown eyes who happened to belonged to Slytherin house. A Slytherin Zabini.

Harry's eyes widened when he saw an eyebrow raised in his direction after a minute or two of staring at the Slytherin.

Harry blushed and ducked down.

"Hey mate. You okay?" Harry was interrupted from his musings by Ron.

"I'm fine Ron." With that, he got up and left to go to his detention. He missed the concern glances he got from Ron and Hermione. Ignoring them, he exited the hall doors and turned his thought inwards.

Shock once again coursed through his system as the Gryffindor caught him staring when none at his own table did. Thankfully though, he managed to remain calm and collected physically, only raising an eyebrow in return.

Nope. Potter was still drifting away from his friends, he mused as he watched the boy lie to his friends and scuttle out of the great hall to his detention an hour early.

Blaise sighed and noted to himself how skittish the boy seemed. Maybe he could get him to trust him a little bit during the detention. You know, bond over mutual hate for Snape? It would be worth a try, at least.

An hour later found Blaise sitting beside Potter and ten cauldrons they were supposed to be cleaning out.

It appeared that Harry was a pro with this as the pile diminished slowly.

He'd worked hard just to get the two of his own clean.

Just another reason to hate Snape.

Harry glanced at Zabini before grabbing another cauldron. He kept his mind blank, not wanting to think of anything at all, just focused on cleaning the cauldrons and getting out of there.

He picked up a blade to clean out a particularly nasty hard part when he cut himself across his hand, blood immediately pouring out of the gash. It wasn't terribly deep, but deep enough to make the blood go around his arm like a ribbon and drop onto the floor. Harry cursed and brought his robe to the cut, looking for something to wrap around it, unwilling to go to Madam Pomfrey or Professor Snape, not that he even considered Snape in the first place.

The other hissed as he saw the droplets of blood splatter into the cauldron, no doubt making it harder to clean.

Instead of marveling on how Harry didn't flinch as the blade slid across his palm, he used a severing charm on the end of his robes so that a long strip was torn off.

When Harry reached for it with his good hand though, Blaise swatted him away and took the injured hand silently into his own so he could clean his arm off. He tore the strip of cloth in half and used the 'aquarius' spell to wet one end to wipe up the blood that was already drying on the arm.

As he rolled up the cuff of Harry's white button up shirt, he noted the slight wince of the other, but put it to the back of his mind. The forearm was soft and smooth, rough in several areas, but tainted with the dried blood. However, the skin was soon creamy white again.

After the area around the cut was cleaned, he took the other end of the cloth and wrapped it around the palm of Harry's hand several times tightly.

As if to console himself that he'd just done that, he spoke unconvincingly: "Couldn't have you bleeding all over my shoes, now could I?" In return, Harry merely snorted but made no effort to pull his arm away.

Harry snorted when Blaise said that but didn't pull his arm away, instead marveling at Blaise's soft and gentle touch.

Though when Blaise had touched his arm when rolling up his sleeve he had to bite back a gasp but couldn't contain the wince. He had a glamour over his arm, hiding all his numerous cuts from elbow to wrist. He had lied to his friends. Instead of going to the dungeons, he went to a bathroom, and locked himself away for an hour with only his self and a trusty blade.

He looked up at Blaise, who was going over his make-shift bandage.

Blaise could have sworn that the skin he was cleaning felt uneven and rough beneath his fingers, but shook it off again.

As he tied off the knot neatly, he looked up into the jaded green eyes of Harry Potter from his kneeling position in front of him, ironically similar to that of a marriage proposal.

"Malfoy would kill me if he ever saw me in this position," he commented offhandedly.

"But, then, his father has been appealing to mine for an arranged marriage between us," he said disgustedly with a shudder.

"Now that would be cataclysmic."

The deep, rolling chuckle emanating from Harry's chest had Blaise's lips quirking upwards slightly, and he hoped that Harry saw it.

Blaise put a hand on the cauldron beside him for support in standing as he raised himself off the ground, wincing as his knee joints cracked angrily.

Harry got a pang of… something, but what, jealousy? Harry didn't know, but it flooded through him when Blaise mentioned his marriage proposal thing to Malfoy.

Those thought were quickly pushed to the back of his mind when he saw Blaise wince and a very faint crack was heard.

"Are you okay Bla...Zabini?" Harry asked, trying to cover his mistake, but failing.

The Slytherin noticed the name but didn't question it. "Yeah, I'm fine. How about you?" he questioned with a gesture at the hand that was now wrapped in dark cloth.

In response, he heard a vague, "Yes" but continued to stare at the face in front of him.

It was angelic. No, scratch that, it was more resembling a fallen angel than anything. There were dark bags below his eyes and there were shadows in his eyes that just couldn't have been there before.

His hair was frayed and even messier than usual, sticking out farther than it would have last year. But it looked good that way, he concluded, imagining how it would feel to try and style that hair with just his fingers and some water. Maybe even a little bit of colored gel, he mused.

But he was broken out of his musings by the reminder that sappy conversations and stuff could be held off until they had all the cauldrons clean.

The air was a bit more comfortable between the two from opposing houses though, and Blaise was tempted to get him to talk more.

Harry blushed as Blaise seemed to run his eyes over his features before gently clearing his throat, a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

He watched as Blaise seemed to come out of his trance and look at Harry before reclaiming his seat. Harry glanced at Blaise once more before turning back to finish his cauldrons.

45 minutes later and both were through. Harry was putting away the knife from earlier and Blaise was gather his bags when Snape barged in, his midnight black robes swirling around his menacing figure.

He glanced at them disdainfully before waving his wand over the cauldrons, muttering a spell underneath his breath. They were at once all clean and sparkling.

Snape barked at them to leave.

Harry quickly placed the knife down before walking over and picking up his bag only to wince as he picked it up with his injured hand. He quickly put it on his shoulder, biting his lip to contain the gasp that wanted to desperately escape. He rushed out of the room with Blaise at his side, never noticing that he had bit so hard that his lip was bleeding.

Once they were out of the general vicinity of the potions master and his cloud of doom, Blaise stopped, realizing that he was going the opposite direction to his dormitory.

Harry turned to him; injured hand and wrist securely in his pocket, only to have Blaise roll his eyes and point to his chin. "Potter, you've got, uh, blood, right there, yeah, that's it." He watched as Harry went pink momentarily before using the corner of the sleeve from the robe draped over his shoulder to wipe it off. However, his balance was thrown by his book bag as it slid down his shoulder and onto his lower arm. This time, he couldn't suppress the gasp that was building and winced, crinkling the corners of his eyes in pain before removing his hand from its dark pocket, allowing the bag to drop to the floor. "Fuck!" He cursed heavily as he saw that the strap was tinged faintly red, and the sleeve of his white school shirt was now covered in red drops of blood that had escaped the confines of the concealing charm.

No longer aware that Blaise was there, he rolled the arm of his shirt up and conjured a few thick pads of gauze to clean up the blood that would undoubtedly begin dripping steadily down his arm when he removed he charm.

Sure enough, Harry quickly put one of the pads over an area when he would take the charm for that area off, removing it when the blood soaked through the back.

Startled by a gasp, he looked up, cursing his inattentiveness as he was met with the shocked and concerned brown eyes of Blaise Zabini.

"Potter, what are you doing to yourself!"

He rushed over to Harry, only to be pushed away again.

"Why are you doing this?"

Harry backed away from Blaise with a panicked look on his face. He wanted to run, and that's what he did.

Harry took off down the hall, running out of the dungeons and past portraits, and suits of armor until he tripped on a step, busting his already bleeding lip open. Harry forced back the tears before pushing himself up and continuing to the portrait, He quickly said the password, dancing pixies, before rushing in. The common room was empty except for the dying fire, casting shadows across the room. Harry silently made his way up to boys' staircase. He silently padded across the room to his bed, snores from the other boys reassuring that everyone was asleep, before taking his clothes off, except his boxers, and going into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He glanced at himself in the mirror.

"Oh dearie, you look a horrible mess!" the mirror said and Harry readily agreed. His hair was in all directions, sweat helping that fact. Sweat glistened on him from his earlier run. Blood still ran from biting his lip and the fall. It ran down his chin and a soft splatter when it his chest, deep blood red against pure white.

Dried tear tracks mingled with fresh wet ones down his face. His arm was bleeding but the wounds had slowly stopped. Harry sighed and stepped into the shower, water cascading down his body as silent sobs wracked though his body as he wondered why Blaise's opinion seemed to mean something to him. Why it mattered if he should have run away. Why Blaise shouting at him made him sad.

He got out of the shower 30 minutes later, eyes red and slightly puffy. He quickly got dressed and stepped into his soft bed, only having enough sense to put a glamour over his wounds before falling into a deep sleep form being both mentally and physically exhausted.

Blaise's walk back to the Slytherin dormitory was purposefully slow, meant to give him time to ponder the events around the time of the detention.

So Potter was a cutter.

It wasn't like things like that were rare in Slytherin house. After all, most of them were being pressured beyond belief by their parents to join the Death eaters, something most of them had the sense not to do.

But why would Potter feel the need to cut himself? Why would Potter feel like his life was bad enough that he would have to inflict physical damage to himself?

Had the years of playing the pawn finally built up to where he could no longer stand it? Could no longer breathe with the realization of what was happening rising above him like a bad omen and tea leaves?

Could not understand why this was happening to him and how anyone else could possibly understand what he was going through?

The whole school subconsciously knew that there was something just not right with the boy, be it his mental state, or something else. He had these personality switches that could leave even the most expensive psychologists dumbfounded. One minute he would be happy, laughing with his friends, and the next, screaming at them for trying to placate him.

Or maybe it was just something totally different.

What would happen if Harry had the home life most Slytherins did as well?

And maybe Harry was more human than they all thought. Maybe he was just... tired. Tired of having people rest their fears on his shoulders, to come back for at a later date when they no longer cared about it or what they were doing to their savior.

But most of all, Blaise wondered why he even cared. Potter was just another dumb Gryffindor... right?

Blaise entered the Slytherin dorms distracted that night and he took a quick shower to get rid of any blood that may have gotten on him and potions gunk that had undoubtedly splattered on him.

He noticed how his fingers trembled neither from hunger nor anxiousness, but rather from nerves connected directly to his heart - the one that suddenly found itself caring for a broken Harry Potter.

That night, he went to bed with millions of thoughts running through his brain, leaving him cranky from lack of sleep in the morning.

_**-0-0-0-0-0-**_

Can you tell the transition places? Probably. Sorry if it's choppy or anything.

Please review and tell us what you think and how we can improve our conjoined fics,

**DeAtHsTeNsHi** and **Fear of Apathy**


End file.
